The Speed of Love
by slythadri
Summary: Originally written for the Houses Competition, now a two-chapter. EWE. It's been years since the war ended and friendships are flourishing all over the place. But as always, love is a battlefield and the latest muggle craze to invade the wizarding world is a nightmare: speed dating. A piece of Dramione/Hansy fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Written for the Houses Competition, Year 4. EWE. It's been years since the war ended and friendships are flourishing all over the place. But as always, love is a battlefield and the latest muggle craze to invade the wizarding world is a nightmare: speed dating.

Player: Slythadri

House: Slytherin

Year: 2

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Event] Speed Dating

Word Count: 1985

* * *

"Are you almost ready?"

Draco closed his eyes so she wouldn't see him roll them in his reflection from the full-length mirror. He felt her poised steps approaching him from behind, a hand gliding over his shoulder, brushing away nonexistent lint. She stood in front of him and ghosted over his perfect Windsor tie, smiling.

"You look perfect, my Dragon. I have to admit, the muggle-born tailor knows what he's doing. The suit makes you look handsome yet approachable, regardless of the ladies' backgrounds. And shows your figure better than robes."

"Let me be clear, Mother: I'm going to this ridiculous event only because I couldn't talk you out of it," he said, still looking at his reflection.

Narcissa softly gazed at her son, a look similar to the one she used when he was younger. "I appreciate you humoring me, darling. Why don't you try to relax and have fun? These events are very popular among muggles, there must be something about them to be so."

"Seriously, Mother, when I told you that I wholeheartedly supported you embracing muggle culture I should've known it would come back to bite me."

Narcissa chuckled softly and patted his cheek. "Don't be so dramatic, dear. Dating ten women in one night should be any wizard's dream."

This time Draco couldn't help himself and rolled his eyes. "Speed dating. Even the name is ridiculous," he said, kissing his mother's cheek before disapparating.

He popped up in a luxurious private dining room in a rooftop restaurant in London.

"Right on time. Very good, Mr. Bachelor, welcome to your party," cooed a familiar voice.

"Pansy. Why are you doing this to me?" said Draco massaging his forehead with his fingers.

"Don't Avada the messenger, darling. I'm just doing Cissy a favor. And can you blame her? She really wants grandchildren. Now follow me, your table is back here."

Draco took a deep breath. At least he knew now that the food and drinks would be top notch. Pansy Parkinson was the best event organizer in Wizarding Britain. She gestured for him to take a seat in the elegant, semi-circular leather booth.

"Here's how this works: ten beautiful witches are scheduled to floo in at seven-minute intervals. You'll have five minutes to talk to each one, then I'll escort that one out and bring the next candidate. That invisible ink parchment is for you to make notes whenever you like someone and would like to get in touch with her again. Of course, you will know some of them, but there will be a few fresh faces. Just have a drink, relax and try to enjoy yourself."

Draco sighed and signaled for Pansy to begin the awkward parade. He reached for the tumbler of firewhiskey that appeared in front of him, taking a long sip.

Pansy was back with a gorgeous blonde. She looked oddly familiar, and maybe a tad bit young.

"_Allo_, Draco, you may not remember me," she said with a thick French accent, tossing her long hair back. "I'm Gabrielle Delacour."

Draco tilted his head like a confused dog. "You're Fleur Weasley's little sister, right?"

The girl gave him a seductive smile, "I am not so little anymore, Draco. And I remember you well from our time at '_ogwards_," she said reaching for a finger sandwich and biting into it suggestively.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. Blunt was not his taste. Had it been, he would have been married to Pansy by now. He sat there, quietly watching the Veela-look-alike put on a show on how to eat like a courtesan, and hoping for the mortifying moment to be over.

Mercifully, Pansy came back to get the girl, who blew him a slow kiss, which he responded with an awkward wave.

He took a deep breath. It can't get much worse than that, right?

"Hello, Draco Malfoy," said a dreamy voice. Oh, Merlin, apparently it can get worse.

"Lovegood. Hello. This is...unexpected."

"Don't worry, Draco, I am not here for you. I am here to help you by reducing the number of matches and make your decision easier."

Draco chuckled, "Thank you, Lovegood, that is mighty kind of you."

"I can see you don't believe me. But you will. By the end of the night, you'll find love."

He offered a sincere smile. It was a kind sentiment, even if he still thought the witch was a bit odd. So he indulged her by listening to a strange rant about something called a blibbering humdinger, whatever that was. She was leaving right after the event to go search for one of those somewhere in the South Pacific.

After Luna left, Draco downed the rest of the firewhiskey. When he put the tumbler down a beautiful black haired witch was sitting in front of him.

"Astoria? Didn't we already have this conversation?" he said, chuckling.

"Relax, darling, I'm here just to humor my mother. And to help reduce the number of mismatches you will have tonight. And don't you worry, I'm still gay." Then she looked around and leaned closer. "In fact, tonight I'm eloping."

Draco opened his eyes like saucers, "Don't tell me you are going to hunt for a babbling baboon!"

Astoria rolled her eyes. "It's called a blibbering humdinger, and we are not hunting them, we are searching for a colony to observe them."

Draco laughed loudly, Astoria joining him after a few seconds. Her mother had been horrified that she had chosen to become a Magizoologist of all things. And she didn't even know the whole story.

After his friend said goodbye, he was left with a ray of hope. Astoria had found love in the most unexpected place, against all odds. Maybe he would too, someday.

The next few "dates" were all over the place. Another French girl that he vaguely remembered from the Beauxbatons crew that had come to the Triwizard tournament. Pretty witch but she thought everything in England was "_eedeous_". Then came Lavender Brown, who apparently had time for a few cocktails before arriving, so she was all giggles and kept trying to call him "Dray Dray". Daphne Greengrass joked with him that her mother still had hopes that one of her daughters would become a Malfoy, so just like her sister she was there to humor the older lady, but she was deeply in love with a Hufflepuff muggleborn. Poor Mrs. Greengrass was in for a rude awakening. Romilda Vane seemed a bit too eager, asking if the Malfoy weddings were held at the Manor and if she would be expected to wear only heirlooms or would she pick her own jewelry. Susan Bones was pretty and sweet, but way too demure for his taste. When she left after a polite five-minute conversation, he sighed: that one too blunt, this one too demure. He was freaking Goldilocks.

He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. Only two more witches two go and he could go have one last drink in his private library, then bed. When he opened his eyes, Ginny Weasley was sitting in front of him. Draco crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow. He and Ginny had become friendly rivals over the years, as he was a donor for the Holyhead Harpies and was frequently invited to charity competitions between the team and the aficionados. They had good rapport, but there was definitely no chemistry there.

"Relax, Malfoy, I'm here just to help reduce the number of mismatches you would have to deal with tonight," she said, reaching for his firewhiskey tumbler, downing it in one gulp.

"Why do you all keep saying that? I thought you girls all wanted me to have a lot of dates."

Ginny made a face after finishing the drink and motioning for the glass to refill. Taking another long sip, she then gestured "no" with her finger. "Your mother wants you to go on a bunch of dates. We want you to go on THE date," she said. "That's why Pansy called reinforcements, so she could tell Narcissa truthfully that you had ten dates when actually, you are here only for one. We threw the French brats and Lav Lav into the mix just in case you actually wanted a bimbo or a party girl, and Susan would truly make a great wife but we didn't see that one happening either."

"And what about you Weaselette? Don't you want a piece of this?" he said gesturing towards himself.

"As if. But I do want something from you. Do you think your friend Zabini would let me buy him a drink?"

Draco cackled loudly at that. "Actually, the last time we went to a game together he said, and I quote, 'must be great to be the Weaselette's broom', so yeah. Are you sure you want me to hook you up with him?"

Ginny grinned evilly, "If that's true, I think I can handle it from here. Nice seeing you, ferret. I'll leave you to your main event," she said and walked towards Pansy. The two of them escorted a blindfolded woman into the room. Draco's jaw dropped.

Hermione freaking Granger.

Wearing a little halter neck black dress that showed just enough cleavage, soft curls falling over one shoulder, and beautiful black pumps with red soles, he had never seen her looking like this.

"This is ridiculous, Pansy, this is not how blind dates work! I'm not supposed to be blindfolded."

"It's for your own good honey, so you can get to know the gentleman for who he is."

Hermione huffed. That sounded like something she would say, but now that she was honest to Merlin blindfolded, she felt too vulnerable. Her friends guided her to the booth and helped her sit slowly. Pansy guided her hand towards Draco and he took them in his, an amused smile gracing his face. He decided to drop his voice an octave. This would be fun.

"Enjoy!" the Slytherin witch said and she and Ginny walked away giving him over-the-top grins and thumbs up.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Uhm, hello. This is a bit awkward, at least for me. I don't know if you are also blindfolded."

"I'm not. Maybe it is a bit unfair. But as your friend said, maybe this way you would get to know me better. Get to know the man I am."

She nodded, then realizing that he was holding her hand tried to pull it away. He held it softly and when she relaxed he drew patterns with his finger on her palm. She gasped. "Runic work. You know what you are doing."

He chuckled. There was something familiar and sexy about that, she thought.

"Indeed. Can you tell what it is?"

She took a soft breath and focused on the feeling. "It's an ancient Gaelic pattern. A plea of sorts."

He smiled. Brilliant as always. "Yes. it's a prayer to the goddess Branwen, asking for her to open the beloved's heart."

Hermione's breath got shallow. She was not superstitious, but right now she felt like her heart was indeed cracking open. "Tell me about her," she whispered.

He indulged her and went on a lengthy explanation of the old gods and the rituals to gain their favors, while she unconsciously leaned closer and closer until he was moving her hair to speak on her ear.

Goosebumps filled her skin and she spoke softly, "You know, speed dates are supposed to last five minutes, and blind dates do not include blindfolds. We are breaking the rules here."

"Neither of us is known for following the rules, Hermione."

She drew a breath, "I know who you are."

"Say it." His voice was feral, almost a growl.

"Draco," she purred.

He moved his hand slowly across her face to reach for the blindfold but she stopped him.

"Leave it. I do want to get to know who you really are."


	2. Chapter 2

Pansy opened her eyes and stretched in her luxurious bed. She smiled, remembering the owl she got the night before.

_You know I do not praise people easily, but I'll admit that you are the best matchmaker in wizarding Britain. Granger is the one. Now I just have to convince her that Muggle customs like waiting a year before getting married are voided in the wizarding world. Maybe I can tell her it's illegal to wait so long? No, she won't buy it and may hex me for trying to coerce her. Merlin, I love how spirited and righteous she can be. Is that weird? I guess you knew it would turn me on, and that's how you put us together. Well, I expect that once I can talk her into marrying me, you will help with the wedding planning. _

_You are the best._

_Draco _

It had only been a week since the speed dating event, and Draco was already talking wedding plans. Heck, Narcissa Malfoy had already put out the Black Family Names scroll, probably hoping there will be grandchildren soon to name after the constellations.

All that love in the air made Pansy proud of her work, but then a ping of loneliness hit her. If there were a wedding soon, she would go sans plus-one. Maybe she would get paired with one of the Gryffindors from Granger's side. She chuckled with relief knowing that it would not be Ronald Weasley: after the speed dating event, Lavender Brown had drunk-owl him, and apparently, they were still locked in his flat. At least that's what the gossip columns were saying, the information probably leaked by Brown herself.

There were others, like Dean Thomas (not a bad option), Oliver Wood (cute but rumored to be a manwhore), or Seamus Finnegan (hell no!). And of course, the Chosen One would be there, in all his glorious singlehood. But that was never going to happen. They had made peace after running into each other a couple of times at ministry functions that she organized. But from him to say that he had no hard feelings toward her to see her as a romantic prospect… well, that was not even a possibility.

A knock on the window snapped Pansy out of her musings. An owl was standing there. She got off the bed and went to get the message.

"You are a cutie," she said to the white owl, petting it. The bird looked pleased. She opened the message.

_Hi Parkinson_

_Rumor has it that you are the best matchmaker around. I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me. Of course, I would appreciate your discretion; I think you know gossip about me is a non-stop pain in my arse. If you think I am not entirely hopeless, please give me an appointment, and you can explain to me how it works. _

_Cheers_

_Harry Potter._

Pansy stood there, frozen. Her mind went blank, a sour taste filling her mouth. Then reality hit: she was attracted to the Boy Who Lived. And her punishment in life was going to be to set him up and watch him marry someone else. The owl peck her hand, and she shook her head; then wrote a quick note:

_Meet me tonight at seven at Duck and Waffle in Muggle London. That way, we can start this mission with the utmost discretion. I'll reserve a table under my name. _

_Regards_

_Pansy P. _

That evening Pansy apparated to the side alley by the restaurant and made her way in. When she got to the restaurant's entrance, she saw Harry standing there, wearing a tailored muggle suit and chatting with the hostess, who was all eyelashes and pouty lips. Had this scene happened back when Pansy was the Slytherin Princess, she would have hex the girl's hair off. Nowadays, she knew better, though. She straightened her already perfect posture, then walked with all the poise her pureblood upbringing could give her.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned around, and his eyes shined when he saw her. Pansy saw the hostess's face fall and felt a malicious satisfaction.

"Good evening, Mrs. Parkinson," he answered, taking her hand and kissing it, then leaning to kiss her cheeks. Pansy's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure while lacing her arm with his. The hostess plastered a fake smile on her face and took them to a booth that faced the floor to ceiling windows with a spectacular view of London's skyline.

After ordering drinks, Pansy tried to keep control of her emotions by jumping right to business.

"So, Chief Potter, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Miss Parkinson, as you know, your best friend and my best friend are practically engaged after one week of the date you set for them. So I'm hoping maybe you can do the same for me."

She smiled, though inside she wanted to yell: _"LOOK AT ME, I'M RIGHT HERE. I WOULD BE A MUCH BETTER GIRLFRIEND THAN ANYONE OTHER WITCH. I'M LOYAL, I LEFT ALL MY BAD HABITS BEHIND AND I'M GREAT IN BED. DATE ME. FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!_"

But instead, she said:

"Of course. I think in your case, we need to do a shorter version of the speed dating event. No open calls or letting the word out. I will recruit the ladies myself and will not tell them who they are meeting."

Harry nodded, but his eyes kept dropping to her lips. She had grown into her features and was now a very sexy witch.

"Harry?"

"Pardon?"

"Just leave it to me. I will set up the right event for you," Pansy assured him.

"Great. Shall we enjoy our dinner then?"

She smiled and lifted her glass to clink in a toast, even though she was feeling hopeless. Dinner turned out to be the best date either of them had ever have. At the end of it, they walked to the alley to disapparate. Harry faced the pretty witch and said:

"So, what now?"

She looked at those green eyes, the sexy facial hair, those lips, and decided she needed to get out of there before her emotions overrun her restraint.

"I'll owl you," she said, turning on her toes to disapparate. When she was gone, Harry felt her absence like a weight around his neck.

Harry spent the next two days trying to think of an excuse to owl Pansy. But since they had agreed on her organizing the speed dating event for him, he didn't want her to think he was rushing her. Harry was not even sure why he wanted to owl her. He was lost in thought when a howler landed in front of him and screamed:

"POTTER!"

Harry cursed and shouted:

"Would you ever grow the fuck up?"

Draco Malfoy walked into his office with a smirk on his face.

"Come on; it never gets old. Why are you a sour patch anyway? Do you know what works for that? Getting laid."

"Oh, so you get to bang my best friend for a week, and suddenly you are a sex god? Let me remind you that last week your balls were a lovely shade of blue."

"I don't dwell in the past, Potter. Now, what are we going to do for your blue balls?"

Harry sigh, resigned. This conversation was happening. Damn the day he decided to accept Malfoy's offer of friendship. The git was way too good at it.

"Pansy is fixing an event for me."

"Oh. Then why the long face?"

"I'm not sure is what I want."

"Why not? She's good. Look at how things turned out for Granger and me."

"You still call your girlfriend by her surname?"

"I like it. Keeps her feisty. It's a good look for her."

Harry smiled.

"So you think Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalries transition nicely into spicy sex?"

"Oh, shit, you want to nail Pansy! You rascal!"

Harry shot him a sting hex but didn't deny it. Malfoy knew Pansy better than anyone. He could use some advice.

"So do you think I should tell her to call off the event? Just ask her out?"

Draco thought for a moment, then smiled maliciously.

"No. Let her sweat a little. It'll be good for your cause."

Harry thought that was a bit mean, but he would be seeing her in two days anyway, so why not wait.

"Fine. But just a little."

"You are such a Gryffindork. Come on, let's grab lunch.

Two days later, Harry went to the rooftop restaurant that Pansy had prepared for the event. When he greeted her, he kissed her on the corner of her mouth. Pansy trembled but managed to stay focused. She had set only three dates. Two Hufflepuff girls and an American, a graduate from Ilvermorny. Pansy thought that a foreign girl could be a good option for Harry, even though her heart ached at the prospect.

Harry spent five minutes with each of the Hufflepuff girls, and as expected, they were lovely. Neither of them would hold a candle to Pansy, though, at least in Harry's eyes. He mused that maybe Pansy had purposely chosen women that were pretty but would look dull next to her. The Slytherin witch exuded sensuality.

The third candidate was the American witch. From the beginning, Harry felt something was off. The woman was curious in an invasive way, and he found himself dodging very personal questions, entirely inappropriate for a first date. Suddenly, the witch's face started to contort horribly. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. When the twisting stopped, he saw the supposed American witch was someone who had used polyjuice potion: Rita Skeeter.

"You!" he yelled, furious. But before he could do something, the witch was convulsing in pain. Pansy had shot a series of stinging hexes at the odious reporter and was now standing on top, with her wand pointed at Skeeter's face.

"Give me your memory of this event," Pansy said in a scary voice.

"You can't demand that from me, young lady, I am with the press. I have the right to report what I see."

"Not if you endangered the head of Magical Law Enforcement, you disgusting rat. I may not have the authority to arrest you, but he does. Right, Chief Potter? Pansy said, looking at Harry.

He smirked.

"Indeed. Give us the memory, Skeeter. All of it. Or I swear I would obliviate the last year out of you. I bet no one would mind if I do that."

The nosy reporter huffed and did as told. Pansy used and Incendio so strong to destroy the memory that it burned a hole on the floor. Then she simply repaired it. With another wave of her wand, she levitated the annoying witch and asked Harry:

"Should she go to Auror headquarters?"

Harry chuckled.

"Yes, please. Detention room. You are under arrest, Skeeter, for endangering a law officer."

Pansy called the location and threw the witch out through the floo. When she turned around, Harry was looking at her, impressed. Now he was sure that he liked her—a lot.

"You could have been an auror, you know?" He commented, amused.

"I thought about it," she confessed, "but I think I enjoy playing cupid more." then she walked to sit next to him. I'm very sorry about that, Harry. I should have done a better background check. She came to my agency carrying photographs and mementos of her life. Or should I say from an American witch's life? I wonder how did she get them.

"Skeeter has no scruples. She probably stole those or found them in a lost bag and then saw a chance to use them. I'll find out tomorrow when she undergoes interrogation."

Pansy nodded. She found Harry's career very sexy.

"So, Rat Skeeter aside, is there anyone you would like to see again?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, not really. At least none of the two that were real," he chuckled. "Lovely ladies, but they did not strike my fancy. I think I want something different."

"I'm sorry, Potter. Please don't be discouraged. We can start looking abroad, where your fame would not be such a hindrance. I promise I will find you someone you will like very much."

Harry shook his head again, a smirk on his face.

"You know, Parkinson, I think you suck at this."

"I beg your pardon?" she stiffened, feeling like he punched her in the gut.

"You are failing to see what is right in front of your face," he said, poking her cute turned-up nose.

She felt cold and hot at the same time, her Slytherin-ness trying to put down the eagerness that surged in her chest. Her voice came out in a squeak:

"What do you mean?"

He moved closer to her, reaching to caress her face with his fingertips.

"How about you and me?"

"Huh?" was all she could manage in another squeak. Dammit Pansy, pull yourself together before…

Her thoughts were interrupted by his mouth on hers. It started slowly, just a soft brushing of lips and the tempting warmth of each other's breath. Then he pulled away, holding her gaze. Pansy's brain shut off, and her cravings took over. She straddled him and went down for a deep kiss. He happily obliged, one hand on her nape, the other on her lower back, pulling her very close. After a few minutes she came out for air and he asked with a smile:

"So I take you do like me?"

"Shut up, Potter," she answered before kissing him again.


End file.
